Stalking game, although a hardy and invigorating pursuit, is not every hunter's cup of tea. For instance, physical limitations might prevent a fellow from sprinting uphill to close the distance on an elk; or another outdoorsman might simply prefer to take a stand, allowing the quarry to wander into range, as the anticipation leads to an intensity of adrenaline. What always makes my blood boil is the sudden appearance of a distant animal and its subsequent, lengthy approach toward my hideout. I have successfully stalked many critters, but nothing gets my heart pounding like a good ambush.

Setting high standards allowed the author to take this beautiful Colorado mule deer. The author passed up several bucks in hopes of downing an animal such as this.

After five years of applying for a deer tag in Colorado's Unit 61, on the Uncompahgre Plateau, I received the news in 2002 that I had indeed drawn for the area. I was thrilled. Never having hunted there, I planned a scouting trip for two weeks before the opener. During that trip, I found several nice bucks (bigger than anything I had taken in the past) but no real monsters. I set my minimum standards. I would hold out for a 5x5 in full velvet, with good mass. I hoped for a 26- to 30-inch spread, but that would be a bonus.

The days leading up to the season were filled with anxiety and anticipation. I got to the area three days early, set up my base camp, looked around, shot my bow, got acclimated. As far as Colorado goes, this was not a particularly high area. Still, going from 6,000 to 9,000 feet in altitude can affect your physical state, so I wanted to take some time to become accustomed to the plateau's thinner air. Those first pre-season nights bull elk sang me to sleep, stirring my killer instinct. They were hot. As a matter of fact, they continued to bugle throughout my 20 days on the Uncompahgre. I regretted that I would need to relocate later for wapiti, since I only had a deer and bear tag for Unit 61.

Formulating A Plan
From talking to other hunters who knew the area, and from picking the brain of the game biologist there, I gathered that spot-and-stalk was the way to approach this hunt. "You can't kill 'em if you don't see 'em," is how one savvy archer put it. In a similar vain, the biologist expressed his opinion that the local deer couldn't be patterned, and that stand hunting would be a "waste of time." So, armed with the above information, I developed a strategy. It was hardly revolutionary. Early each morning, I would go to a high vantage point and search for feeding bucks, then observe where they bedded down and formulate a stalk.

Initially, it all seemed to make sense. But after thinking it over, and after glassing only small bucks (and incidentally some very fine elk) feeding in the open during the pre-season, I decided to set up a tree stand in heavy cover, where I had seen some better bucks. I would sit my stand, taking a passive approach for the first several days and then get aggressive if necessary as the season advanced. My reasoning may well have been flawed, decreasing my chances of crossing paths with trophy deer, but I had a very sound basis for the decision to use a tree stand.

Learn From Your Roots
I grew up in Wisconsin and much of my formative hunting time was spent pursuing whitetails from above. When I moved out west, I hunted successfully on foot for the first three years. I wondered why bowhunting no longer gave me the thrill it once had, and I attributed it to the game animals being pursued.